A Cup of You
by AccioMidnight
Summary: They talked for hours at his normal table, about everything and nothing at all and Draco knew, Muggle or not, that that night with Hermione Granger was well worth every cup of coffee he'd ever paid for to be in her presence. AU
1. Chapter 1

_Some things you might want to know first: Hermione's Hogwarts letter never came __**bc she's 100% Muggle**__. Draco(and pretty much the entirety of Wizarding Britain) has been through some deep shit. He's been living in solitude in a Muggle town for three years. Things are very quiet now. Ages: 24-H/23-D. This will be a series of dates between the two. _

_—-_

When he'd first tried it, he'd almost spit it out, but as the years passed, Draco found himself with an insatiable addiction for coffee. Not just any coffee, no- he'd tried making it himself at home and it was never as good as the ones from Hawthorne's Café. It'd been a warm night in July when he'd first stumbled upon the almost hidden shop. And he was quite glad he had gone out for a stroll that night if only because he'd found something new in his boring routine.

If he was being honest with himself, maybe it wasn't all about the coffee and a bit about the girl who made it.

Her name tag read 'Hermione' but everyone who came in and out of the shop called her Jeanie. Draco preferred Hermione, even though he'd never called her by name before.

For two whole years, he'd come back to Hawthorne's every evening for coffee and a chance to see her. After the first two months, he figured he probably came off as a bit creepy, but she'd quelled his fears with a knowing smile one night and a 'see you tomorrow' thrown over her shoulder as she strolled into the back room.

The next day had apparently been her birthday. He felt almost silly when the old lady who owned the place brought him his coffee instead of Hermione. He'd felt even stranger when he asked where she was. Hilda Hawthorne told him she'd made Hermione take a day off for her birthday. Before he left that night, he discreetly conjured one pretty yellow chrysanthemum and left it at the till for Hermione to find in the morning. He'd left no note.

The walk home that evening had been long and filled with insane thoughts of what could be, if he'd just talked to her for more than a few minutes.

Over the next two years, he left her a flower on her birthday, for Christmas, for Valentines, even for St. Patrick's Day. After the first few, he knew that she knew it was him. She never asked about it, and the flowers sat in a vase near the till until they disappeared.

"Hello."

Draco looked up from his Prophet and shut it quickly, before Hermione could see it properly. The interest in her bright brown eyes told him she'd already seen it a million times.

"Hi." He finally replied.

Instead of taking out her notepad and jotting down his order from memory like she always did, she removed her light blue apron and held it in her hands.

"May I sit with you?" She asked quietly with a smile.

He couldn't say no. "Of course. I'm Draco."

"Well that's a funny name," she laughed, "though I can't talk. Hermione isn't what you'd call a normal name, now, is it?"

"I think it's lovely." Merlin, she was affecting him like a Veela.

"Thank you." She tucked a stray piece of her curly hair behind her ear, "You've come here practically everyday for years, and it's just come to my attention that I've never properly introduced myself-."

"It's alright."

"No, please- let me finish. My name is Hermione Granger."

"Nice to-"

"No- let me finish."

He looked at her strangely but let her go on. And go on she did. On and on about herself, about how her parents had died in a strange car accident when she was fourteen, about her brief time on the streets, about the Hawthorne's taking her in, about the gentle way she made his nightly coffee, about the way she'd been watching him just as much as he'd been watching her, about the way she had each flower he gave her pressed in a book in her room, about the way she knew his newspapers were special, because they had moving pictures on them, about the way she'd finally worked up the courage to speak to him because it was apparent he'd never make a move on his own.

They talked for hours at his normal table, about everything and nothing at all and Draco knew, Muggle or not, that that night with Hermione Granger was well worth every cup of coffee he'd ever paid for to be in her presence.


	2. Chapter 2

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For their second date- or first official one, Draco wasn't really sure-, they went for a stroll through town all the way to the little park hidden behind the schoolyard. All the way, Hermione gushed about the bookstore in town and how she'd always saved up her tips to splurge on new books and old books and used books and the books that gathered dust in the corners of the shelves. With his hand wrapped comfortably around hers, Draco listened to her explain just how often she read- during her short breaks at the coffee shop, when she arrived home, as she walked from the tiny apartment she rented to work, on her days off. She talked about her favorite kinds of stories- the ones about far off places and incredible magic. He had chuckled when she mentioned her deep desire for magic to be real, and for dragons to be real, and for all the little things in the books he had never read that 'didn't exist' in 'real life'.

Her button nose crinkled at his laughter, "What's so funny? Here I am, spilling my soul, and you're laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing at you," he assured her, "It's- you said you'd like to see a dragon and- Hermione, that's just ridiculous."

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me. You wouldn't last five seconds if you actually saw one."

Hermione huffed, pulled her hand away from his, and crossed her arms over her chest. Aside from her overdramatic reaction, the pout on her face alone was enough for him to realize she wasn't actually upset.

"Well I'll guess we'll never know, will we?" She finally muttered.

Draco rolled his eyes.

After getting to know Hermione much better, he'd figured out little things about her that he hadn't noticed from afar. Her mannerisms were very different from what he was used to and it was refreshing.

The war had taken its toll on the Malfoy family, caught between two sides in a political stare down that nearly killed them all. Draco had been raised to be resourceful- strategic- to be able to talk his way out of anything, and he was good at it, but it became tiresome after years and years of lies.

If there was anything Draco was truly tired of doing, it was lying.

Hermione was the embodiment of truth and ethics and perfect morals. She was everything he'd never gotten the chance to be. And discovering Hermione was like an adventure- like finding money in your pocket that you'd thought you'd lost forever. Everything he lacked, she had in spades.

Two or twelve times, he thought about what his parents might say if they knew he was dating a Muggle- but they hadn't spoken to him face to face in years. It was his fault, really, as he denied many of their owls and only wrote before holidays, mostly to make sure they knew he was still alive.

He loved his parents more than anything and it was that fact that kept him so far away for so long. His father had done many horrible things to protect him and his mother- horrible, horrible things- and Draco was still in the process of figuring out where he stood in the post-war world. He couldn't be around his parents; else they influence him automatically, as they'd done when he was a teenager. The fading Dark Mark on his arm served as a constant reminder of his past and if he was being honest, he was still trying to run far, far away from that.

They passed Hawthorne's Café on their walk and Hermione made them stop by to visit Hilda and her daughter Victoria.

He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but Hilda may or may not have given him a dangerous look as she passed them a couple of biscuits.

Another thing he'd learned about Hermione was her undying loyalty to the woman who had pulled her off the streets and into her home with no questions asked. There was a certain edge of darkness in her eyes, whenever she spoke of the time between her parent's death and her employment at the shop, and he soon found that he wanted nothing more than to make sure that darkness, the one he knew so well, did not return to spoil someone so lovely.


End file.
